Page 45 of Precious Hazard

“Indeed.” I nod quickly. The tone of his voice is making me nervous.

“I’m so glad you agree.”

A yelp leaves my lips as DeVille seizes my waist. In an instantaneous move, our chests slam together as he brings us into contact nearly from head to toe. Satan’s palm on the small of my back sends waves of heat racing across my skin, spreading the warmth to every cell of my being. He cups the back of my head with his other hand, and my nerve endings light up as if scorched. His strong fingers tunnel through my hair while he tilts me back.

Feeling precariously off-balance, I grab his shoulders for support. “What are you doing?” I choke out, caught in the depths of his sexy, dark eyes as his mouth lingers a mere inch above mine.

“Making sure your brother has no doubts,” he growls and captures my lips.

His mouth claims mine, and everything within me turns into molten lava. The drag of his fingertips over my scalp sends waves of heat racing down my spine. His scent leaves me spiraling, burning up with need. To hold him close. Closer. Feel the press of his hard chest against my aching breasts. To stay trapped in his searing clutches, while DeVille sets everything around me on fire.

I feel him. His essence. Radiating through my body and mind until he’s everywhere. In every molecule. Spreading. Like a disease. And it feels so damn good to be infected, consumed by the destruction that devastating mouth of his brings.

Loud cheers and laughter explode all around us, breaking the spell. Pulling me out of the abyss. My eyes snap open, only to be confronted with a smoldering gaze. He might have freed my lips, but his dark depths continue to hold me captive.

A light breeze blows across my heated features, whipping my hair across my face. I swallow and quickly untangle my arms from around his neck.

“You’ve made your point…, DeVille.”

“I agree.” He nods and straightens up, but his arm stays tightly wrapped around my waist. “Don’t you think we should be on a first-name basis at this point?”

Breath catches in my lungs. Ididalmost use his name, but managed to stop myself in time.

“Nope.” I step away, shaking off his hold. “I have work to do. See ya later.”

His eyes follow me as I rush toward the house. Fleeing but feeling the weight of his burning gaze with every step.

After that kiss, I’m too weak to face the issue of his name. Too damaged to resist the temptation. Too frayed to admit the truth. How long has it been since he noticed? How long has he waited to confront me on this? I’ve been very careful. Never call him by his given name. Not even in my thoughts.

I have my reasons.

But at the moment, I’m not willing to risk my fate and let the devil win.

“Wow! That’s a lot of people, Mr. DeVille. Looks fun, though.”

“Debatable.” I toss my bundled-up shirt, reeking of smoke and barbecued meat, onto the passenger seat next to Riggo. “Take this to get dry-cleaned right away. The suit, too.”

“Sure thing. In case they ask, what happened to it? Did you spill wine or—”

“I spent two fucking hours roasting a fucking pig. That’s what happened.” I slide my arms into the fresh shirt Riggo brought me and start buttoning it up.

Damn that woman! And her crazy family. I could also kick my own ass for being a dumb fuck. If I bothered to ask the time this grand lunch was supposed to happen (six in the evening, apparently) instead of assuming a noon-hour meal like every normal person out there, I would have avoided being dragged into this madness. I could have done some of the actual work that keeps piling up on my desk instead of being treated like one of the clowns in the Popov circus.

There I was, in my custom-made Tom Ford, carrying stacks of foldable chairs. Spit-roasting a goddamned pig over the fire, while surrounded by four more. Chasing one of Drago’s dogs that got loose and tried to take a bite of that slow-cooked meat. And then, I got recruited to help set up a tent the size of a small country. A fucking tent!

Thank God that monkey business is done now. With all the prep finished just in time, the guests have been arriving for the past half hour, taking their seats at long tables arranged beneath the canopy of the open-sided tent. Their chatter is competing with the music blaring from enormous speakers in all four corners of the canvas palace.

I wonder if these new arrivals will have stupid death threats for me, as well. Most of Drago’s men have tossed theirs out already. That was fun. Nothing says “Welcome to the family” like,We’re gonna fry your ass.That was the message from Jovan, the guy I relieved at the fire pit. Before he went off, he felt the need to tell me that skewering a person like a pig was a common practice in the past. Then, he congratulated me on my engagement. Later, as I was helping chase the dog, Drago’s second-in-command, Filip, mentioned that with only a word from my brother-in-law, his beasts would tear me to pieces. Then, he asked if Tara and I had created a gift registry somewhere. Even Keva, their housekeeper and de facto mother, from what I’ve been told, didn’t hold back. She approached me with large meat shears when I went into the kitchen to get something to drink. Snapping the blades right in front of my face in a not-so-subtle show of force, she told me just how much she loves Tara. That bullshit kept happening the whole afternoon. A veiled threat, followed by happy wishes for my upcoming marriage.

“Oh. There’s your fiancée, Mr. DeVille.” Riggo pushes his arm through the car window, pointing somewhere between the tent and the house.

I follow the direction of his finger, trying to locate the woman in washed-out jeans and a cropped top, with a mass of tangled dark-brown hair piled haphazardly at the crown of herhead. No luck. Only a crowd of men and women in elegant attire, heading toward the buffet tables.

“She’s not—” My gaze freezes on a woman in a long pale-blue gown. She’s talking with a guy near the edge of the tent. The side of her wrap dress flutters in a slight breeze, once in a while lifting to bare her entire leg. If she hadn’t just moved her hand to hold it down, I bet she’d be flashing everyone her underwear. As much as the view of a hot chick gets my blood pumping, I’d never let my woman—

Wait!

I know that dress. The last time I saw it, its wearer doused me with punch.

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